


Inertia

by Azurine



Category: Ultimate Fantastic Four
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-06
Updated: 2004-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-18 02:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azurine/pseuds/Azurine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Inertia is the resistance an object has to a change in its state of motion."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inertia

**Author's Note:**

> It's Christmas in July! I started this story right after Ultimate Fantastic Four #1 came out, and I guess I was still feeling the Christmas spirit. This story takes place in December of 2000, while Reed is at the Baxter Building and Ben is in college. This makes Reed seventeen years old by my calculations. I'm not as good at math as he is. :)

_Newton's first law of motion states that "An object at rest tends to stay at rest and an object in motion tends to stay in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force," that is, objects "tend to keep on doing what they're doing." Inertia is the resistance an object has to a change in its state of motion. -- The Physics Classroom_

* * *

There's only one good thing about going home for Christmas, and that's Ben.

Reed *has* to go home for the holiday. His mother expects him and his sisters want to see him. Plus, he's sure Sue thinks he should *want* to go home, and he has that thing where he doesn't want her to think he's weird. So every year he goes, every year more reluctantly than the last, and it's only the thought he'll get to see Ben that makes it bearable.

Still, he waits until the last minute, scribbling one last notation in his notebook or running one last formula through the computer. It's a shame he has to stop, because Christmas Eve, when the place is deserted, is actually one of the best times to get things done at the Baxter Building. Reed is always the last person to leave, except for Victor, who never goes anywhere for any holiday.

Ben's there in the Richards living room when he gets home, still more a part of the family than Reed has ever been. Ben grabs his hand and shakes it, pulls him forward into a back-slapping, one-armed hug. Reed's dad does the same thing, but Reed returns it with much less enthusiasm, because he only does that when Ben's around.

Mr. Richards talks to Ben incessantly about college football, and Enid, who has developed a crush on Ben, flirts shamelessly with him during dinner. Ben handles it all with ease and good humor, because there really isn't anything that can make him feel awkward, make him feel like he isn't totally comfortable in his skin.

A few times during dinner, when everyone else is busy talking or laughing or bickering, Ben looks at Reed and grins, and Reed feels the pleasant weight of memories.

This is Ben. His friend and protector. Ben, who walked him home from school and insisted (correctly) that he'd never really need to know trigonometry so it was okay if Reed just gave him the answers.

After dessert, his mother shoos away their offer to help with the dishes. In the living room, his dad laughs (a little too) heartily, slaps Ben on the back again, and tells them to go upstairs and talk about girls.

Reed's old room looks almost exactly like it did seven years ago when he moved to Manhattan, except for a few empty places where posters and notebooks and clothes should be.

Ben sits down on the bed and leans back on his elbows. "You invent anything today?"

Reed grins. "Only one or two things."

They talk about stuff for a while. School (Reed's) and grades (Ben's) and which chick on _Survivor_ is hottest. After a while, they can hear everyone going to bed. The girls first, then Reed's parents. His dad letting the dog out one last time. Flushing toilets, slamming doors, pleas for a glass of water. Finally, silence.

They talk some more, both watching the clock, until Reed gets up and locks the door.

When he turns around, Ben's already taking off his shoes, and Reed feels an easing of an anxiety he didn't even realize was nagging him until now. Things haven't changed.

Reed's hands fumble with buttons and zippers, but Ben's are as self-assured as always, and it isn't long before they're naked. Squirming on the sheets together, touching and licking and sucking.

This is Ben. The boy who gave him his first real orgasm. Ben, who taught him how to jerk off, and didn't seem to mind that Reed was more interested in watching *him* jerk off.

Back then, Reed thought watching Ben touch himself was far more arousing than thinking about Sue Storm or Britney Spears. He still remembers how it felt the first time Ben asked him if he wanted to touch him, and Reed jumped at the chance, one hand on Ben's cock and one on his own. Ben came first, much quicker than he usually did, and Reed was disappointed that it was over so soon, but a few minutes later Ben let him do it again.

And they haven't stopped since.

Ben snags his pants from the floor and digs out a condom. Taking the cue, Reed reaches for the desk drawer, and a silicon lubricant they use at the Baxter Building for the replicant technology. It has the exact same chemical make-up as your average lube, though Reed isn't sure how many of the other kids have figured that out. He puts a drop in the end of the condom before Ben pulls it on.

"Shit, that's cold," Ben sputters, but he holds out his hand for more and coats his condom-covered length with it, gritting his teeth and hissing.

Reed doesn't dare laugh, because he knows he's about to find out how cold.

And it *is* cold, but Ben's fingers are warm and strong, and they do all the right things to him. When he can't wait anymore, he moves to straddle Ben's hips, but Ben stops him.

"Like the first time," Ben says. Feeling nostalgic, maybe.

Ben scoots back and sits against the wall, legs out in front of him, latex-wrapped cock sticking up out of his lap. Reed straddles him, facing away, and Ben guides him with one hand on Reed's hip and the other on his own cock, lining things up.

Reed sinks down slowly, feeling the months since they've done this. Rises up a little, sinks down. Rises. Sinks. Working his way down. Ben's hands hold his hips, urging but not forcing. He finally hits bottom and Ben's cock feels huge inside him, like it always does this way, though he's not sure why.

He sits still for a moment, listening to the both of them breathing heavy, and it feels almost like he's melting around Ben's cock, and he swears Ben's going even deeper.

He wants it. Every inch.

This is Ben. All of him.

Ben pulls him back to rest on his chest and hands him the lube again, and Reed knows what he wants. He drizzles more icy slickness on his erection and slowly slides his hand up and down, jerking off so Ben can see. Ben's hands move over his body, pinching his nipples, cupping his balls, stroking his stomach. Reed starts to move his hips a little, and Ben responds. If they both move the right way at the right time, it's a nice shallow thrusting motion that hits all the right spots.

"I want to see you come all over yourself," Ben says, voice tight. That'll work out just fine, Reed thinks, because he's about to do just that.

He stops moving right before his orgasm hits, arches his back, head digging into Ben's shoulder. Ben's hands tighten on his hips and lift him up a little, just enough so he can keep thrusting into him as he comes. Reed digs his heels into the mattress and bites his lip so he won't scream as his cock spasms in his hand, and it's the best fucking orgasm he's had in a year.

Reed blinks the sweat out of his eyes and tries to catch his breath as he wipes his hand on the bedspread and tries to get his bearings. Ben's still hard inside him, pulsing hot, and it isn't long before he starts rolling his hips, wanting friction. Reed leans forward and gets his knees under him so he can move up and down, and Ben approves.

"God, yes. Ride me." Ben's voice has that hoarse, husky sound that Reed thinks of as his Fuck Voice, because that's the only time he hears it.

He moves slowly at first, teasing him a little, but they're both too impatient to do that for long, and soon Reed, with plenty of encouragement from Ben, picks up a quick rhythm.

Reed's thighs begin to burn, but Ben's hands and Ben's words keep him moving, faster and faster. Ben's hips are rising up to meet him, their bodies slapping together, Ben hilting himself again and again. Then the hands on Reed's hips slam him down and hold him still and Ben groans as he bucks against Reed's ass, getting as deep as he can and staying there.

This is Ben. Gasping Reed's name when he comes, telling him how fucking good it feels as his hips buck off the bed. Gasping and groaning and twitching as he spills into the condom.

This is Ben. And right now he is nothing at all like that unflappable boy who never gets flustered.

They clean up, making quick and quiet trips to the bathroom, flushing away the evidence, and then they stretch out on the bed together, fully clothed. They talk about more stuff, both staring at the ceiling, arms and legs overlapping, and every once in a while Ben runs a hand through Reed's hair, making it stand on end.

It's an old habit, something Ben used to do to Reed when he was a little boy. Now he only does it in private, and only after they've had sex. It makes Reed feel safe and loved and like, no matter what happens, everything will be all right. It makes him feel like he's back home.

There's only one person in the world who makes him feel that way.

And that's Ben.

The End


End file.
